Chemical Balance
by Chrisilove
Summary: Fairfield High has changed a lot since the days of Brittany and Alex. Now their own children attend the school. Their oldest son, Paco, meets a rather intriguing new chica in his chemistry class. Will their relationship follow in the footsteps of the previous Fuentes generation, or will they crash and burn like so many expect?
1. Chapter 1

** Hola, amigos! Since Simone has not—and doesn't seem to be going to—written about the Fuentes 2****nd**** generation, I thought that I'd take a stab at it! :) **

**I really hope that you all enjoy it; I know I'm having fun writing it! ;) I'd be super grateful if you'd review! Thanks!**

**Oh, and sorry about the short length, but it just had to work out like that. The future chapters will be much longer, I promise. :D**

**Chapter 1**

_**Violet**_

Yet another first day at yet another new school. Well, technically, it's the first day of the second semester, my first day at this particular school. Everyone else at Fairfield High School has already been in school for eighteen weeks which means that they've all formed their own social groups full of their cliquey friends. _Great._

But there is no use in trying to avoid it. I have to go today, and that's that. Mom calls from downstairs, "Violet, honey, breakfast is ready."

I make sure my hair is up in its usual ponytail, swing my backpack on, and stumble down the stairs, still not used to our new house. Spicy scents of jalapeño and sausage omelets waft from the kitchen, making me smile. Mom always makes my favorite breakfast whenever I've got something big going on. Taking a seat at the bar, I start shuffling through my backpack to make sure I've got everything I need.

"Are you sure you want to start school today, sweetie? Papa and I would understand if you want to homeschool again," Mom suggests casually.

I roll my eyes at her good-naturedly. "I'll be fine. I've done this enough times before. Besides, I'm graduating this year. This is the last year I'll have school, and I want to finally have a normal year of high school."

She sets the plate with my omelet on it in front of me with a clink. "Okay. But if anything happens and you need me to come get you, just text or call me, understand?" She kisses my forehead, making me feel like I'm seven again instead of seventeen. When I nod that I understand, she moves away, and I hear her behind me, digging in her purse for her keys. "I'll be ready to leave whenever you are," she says as she walks out of the kitchen in search of her keys.

The sigh slips out even though I fight it. Mom and Papa are great parents, but they're just a bit…smothering sometimes.

Suddenly, my breakfast tastes like ash, and I can't stand to take another bite. Pulling my backpack onto my shoulders, I call to Mom that I'll be waiting in the car.

The entire ride there, I listen to the radio, nodding to Mom every once in a while so she thinks I hear her babbling about the school. When we get there, I'm thankful that classes have already begun because I have to walk in with Mom—which makes me feel like I'm in kindergarten. We're directed to the administration office where Mom signs papers while I stretch out in an uncomfortable chair and wonder if I'll survive the day.

A sudden flash of pain streaks up from my foot, and I hear someone stumble and curse. Raising my head, I open my mouth to apologize, but the person snaps, "Hey, watch it! What are you, blind or something?"

He walks away, and I lower my head, grumbling, "Yes, I am, idiot."


	2. Chapter 2

** Here's the second chapter. This one is much longer than the first, so yay! Hope you like it! Thanks for reading! :)**

**Chapter 2**

_**Paco**_

Mind-numbingly boring lectures are not the best way to start off the day. I have always hated English class—and no, not because I'm half Mexican. But English is more difficult for me than most other subjects; give me a sentence to correct and I'll sit there for eternity giving you _nada_, but put a calculus problem in front of me and that paper will burst into flames, I'd work it so fast.

So I'm a nerd. One who is also a sports jock. Somehow, I get the best of both worlds. With my stretched out frame, I'm an excellent basketball player who has got a brain like…well, like my Uncle Luis.

However, my physical and mental skills do not allow me to speed up time. I lay my head down for a just a second, but then Mrs. Regis whacks me on the head with her whiteboard marker. "Ouchie-mama!" I yell. I hear my classmates giggle around me. I _was_ trying to be funny, but that really did hurt. It's not like I've got much hair to cushion the blow. Rubbing my scalp, I turn my puppy-dog eyes on old Mrs. Regis.

But the old crone has no heart. She's worse than Peterson. Glaring down her nose at me with those aged, brown eyes, she rasps, "Keep your head up, Fuentes, or you'll be scraping gum off my desks after school until dinnertime. I'm sure Mr. Gonzales wouldn't mind the extra help."

Esteban Gonzales, the school janitor, is actually a good friend of mine. We Latinos tend to stick together. Grinning cockily at my English teacher, I say, "I don't think Esteban would appreciate you makin' him stay late just to punish me. I mean, _él es mi compadre_, after all."

Regis leans over,—an amazing feat in that tight-ass pencil skirt and blouse—placing one hand on my desk and the other on her hip. "Who said _he'd_ be the one staying after with you? Straight after school, Fuentes. You just earned several extra hours with me, and your only friend will be a chisel."

"Sorry, _señora_, but I got practice tonight. How about we reschedule? Let's make it Friday night. I'll even cook, and we can make it date." I know that I'm just asking for it, but lately I've been feeling restless. I'm tired of this place; I'm ready for something exciting.

I watch as that signature sneer that only Mrs. Regis can make slithers across her face, making it even more wrinkled. Her gaze is icy—not that it scares me. _Mi papá_ was a gangbanger back in the day—a pretty famous one who went to this exact school, even. He may be reformed now, but he's still got tattoos, scars, and a glare that could send even mean, old Mrs. Regis cowering with her tail between her legs.

Mrs. Crinkled Parchment straightens up and announces, "Directly after school, Mr. Fuentes. And if you don't hold that tongue of yours, I'll make it for the rest of the week, practice or no."

That shuts me up. Coach Greene made it very clear that if any of us misses more than one practice for anything other than an emergency, we'll be benched for the season. So I close _mi boca grande _and sink into my seat. After waiting a moment to let her triumph ring throughout the classroom, Regis returns to her desk and crows, "Open your textbooks to page seventy-three…"

O.o.O

The music plays over the speaker, signaling that second period starts now. I look next to me at the empty stool. Julianna Gallagher, my chemistry lab partner, ex-girlfriend, and now best friend, is apparently choosing to skip class today. I saw her in the hallway earlier so I know she was here. Mrs. Peterson starts calling roll, but a few names in, the door squeaks open and Julianna struts in, another girl with bronze hair pulled tight in a ponytail trails in behind her.

Mrs. Peterson's severe eyes turn to examine Julianna and the girl. Looking past Julianna, she asks the girl, "Are you the new student, miss…?"

"Violet Morgan, ma'am. Yes, I am," replies the girl. I frown when I see that even when she extends her hand for Peterson to shake, she never really looks at her.

"Come on, Vi. I'll show you where we sit," Julianna chirps, taking the girl's hand in her own and leading her to our table. She pulls over a spare lab stool for Violet and puts it on the far end from me. Then she takes her place between us and heads for quiet introductions as Peterson continues calling names. "Paco, this is Violet, Violet, Paco. She moved here over Christmas break so since I'm part of the aid for special needs program, they asked me to help her adjust to the new school."

_"Hola,_ nice name. Reminds me of _la flora_," I say with a short wave.

_"Gracias ¿Hablas español?"_ Violet asks, taking me by surprise. This white chick knows some Spanish.

_"Sí. Mi familia es de México."_

Julianna butts in, "Okay, guys, maybe you can understand each other, but I'm starting to feel like a total third wheel here."

I flash a toothy grin at her. "The _gringa_ doesn't like not being able to join the conversation, huh? She doesn't get to have the spotlight."

Julianna flicks her golden curls over her shoulder. "And the _gringa_ wants her spotlight."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," Violet apologizes.

"Don't sweat it. Paco talks in Spanish around me all the time, but usually the people he talks to I don't really have any interest in."_ Mi mejor amiga_ can be a real _cabrona _sometimes, but when she wants to be, she can be a ray of sunshine. I'm glad she's not giving this new kid a hard time.

Just then, Peterson clears her throat loudly and scolds, "Paco, Julianna, I know that having a new playmate must be exciting, but you know the rules in my class. No chatter while I'm teaching."

I notice Violet hang her head in embarrassment, but Julianna and I both have equally cocky personalities. She pouts her perfectly glossed lips and I give Peterson my best innocent face. "Sorry, Mrs. Peterson," we chime in unison. She knows we're just playing around, but she holds up blue detention slips all the same, a silent question on her brow like, "Do you really want to tempt me?"

O.o.O

"What the hell is this _mierda_?" I complain, grimacing down at my tray. Usually, I bring food from home. _Papá_ is an excellent cook, having learned from _mi abuela_. But today, he didn't have time to cook us anything, so we all had to eat the school's lunch. My sister, Fiona, is sitting beside me, a similar expression on her face.

Julianna takes the seat on my other side, and I absently notice that Violet is next to her. Julianna chows right into her lunch, almost making me want to hurl.

"You guys are just spoiled with all that homemade Mexican food," scoffs our other friend, Michael—well, he's less of a friend and more of a teammate. I never liked his attitude, but he follows me around and I let him. He's got his girlfriend, Pammy, in his lap.

I'm about to retaliate when an accusatory voice says, "You're that guy from earlier. The one in the office."

We all turn to stare at Violet, but she doesn't notice. Her pale blue eyes just stare straight ahead, although her brow is bent into a frown. Michael's face contorts into an unbelieving sneer. "What?" he snorts.

"You tripped over my foot, and instead of letting me apologize, you rudely told me to watch it. Well, for your information, jerk, I _am_ blind so it's a little impossible for me _watch_ anything." With that, Violet stands up, tray in hand, and stomps off, only to accidentally crash into another person, spilling her mashed potatoes and lasagna on the cafeteria floor. It takes Julianna a minute to remember her duties then she abandons her own meal and goes to help Violet.

It's only then that I realize I've got an incredulous grin on my face. I look at Michael and Pammy who are both disgusted and I laugh, "That _flora_ just whooped your ass." Then I too abandon my sorry excuse for a meal to help this intriguing new _chica_.


	3. Chapter 3

** So…ta-da! Yay! New chapter! I know how totally excited and anxious you all are to read this! ;D Just kidding. I'm not that conceited, ha-ha! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks!**

**Chapter 3**

_**Violet**_

Having had quite a long record of bad days, I am amazed to admit that this is the worst so far. If I hadn't felt completely useless when my idiot math teacher asked me to work out a problem on the board then I wouldn't have snapped at Michael at lunch, which wouldn't have led to a series of other misfortunes that spanned the entire rest of the school day. And now I'm sitting here with Julianna, waiting for Mom to come pick me up. To make matters worse, she's running late, and Julianna can't leave until I do so I'm wasting the time of this person who has been assigned to me for the rest of the semester.

"I'm really sorry she's taking so long," I sigh, hugging my backpack tight.

"Oh, don't worry about it! Trust me, going home is the last thing I want to do today," Julianna replies. Her phone vibrates, and she answers, "Hey, Paco." I feel my face burn at the mention of his name. Earlier, in the cafeteria when I'd crashed into that other student, he'd paid me a lot of attention that I'm really not used to coming from guys. He'd helped me clean up then walked with Julianna and me back to our classroom—Julianna and I have the exact same schedule which is why they assigned her to help me. "I'm still at school. Yeah, Vi's mom isn't here yet. I don't know, let me ask. Hey, Vi, you want to come hang out with Paco and me? I usually go play video games at his house after school."

"You don't have to invite me. I'll be fine if you want to go ahead and leave. Mom will be here soon."

Julianna laughs lightly. "Well, if you don't want to hang out with us that's cool, but we do _want _you to come. Otherwise we wouldn't have asked."

I bite my lip. "Really? I mean, people always try to be nice to me out of sympathy, not because they like me."

"Please, the last thing Paco would feel for any girl is sympathy." Paco's protests sound tiny on the phone. Julianna ignores him. "So?"

I hesitate for a moment, thinking that this will probably just end up like the rest of the day has—terrible—but just as I open my mouth to refuse, out comes, "Sure."

I can hear the grin in Julianna's voice as she says into the phone, "She's coming. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Rifling through my purse, I pull out my phone—a specially-made one with a full keyboard with Braille on each key—and speed dial my mom. While it rings, I tell Julianna, "Just let me tell my mom where I'm going."

O.o.O

Paco's house smells of spicy food with a hint of perfume in the background, and there are voices and footsteps all around, giving the house a busy feeling. A good kind of busy. Seeing as I can't see, I can't help but notice smells and sounds more. Julianna guides me into what I assume is the kitchen because the food smells become much stronger. I expect to meet his mother in here, but instead, when Julianna introduces me, a deep, silky voice says, "Welcome. I hope you like true, spicy, _Méxicano _meals."

I smile politely, hoping that I'm at least smiling in his general direction. "I love spicy. If I could, I'd make it all the time." Mr. Fuentes laughs then Julianna takes me out of the kitchen and into a room where a pair of male voices are shouting lots of Spanish swear words.

"Hey, chill out, _chicos_. There are ladies present," Julianna announces airily. She takes my hand and pulls me further into the room. "Okay, Violet, Raul, Paco's brother. Raul, Violet. She's blind, he's Mexican, let's party!" Her straightforward attitude makes me laugh as she sticks what is presumably Raul's hand into mine to shake. His hand is thick compared to mine, and his grip makes me feel like a twig he could snap in two.

"_Hola_. So you're the spitfire I heard about. Taking Michael Wilkerson down a peg, that takes some _huevos_," growls Raul. His voice is rough and dark, similar to his father's.

"Um, _gracias_," I reply uncertainly.

"See what I meant? _La flora_ is educated," crows Paco's voice from behind Raul. Raul returns to his seat, and Julianna sits me down on a comfortable sofa, plopping down beside me.

"So, boys, what're we playing?" she asks.

"_Call of Duty 2_."

I'm about to zone out since one needs working eyes to play a video game when someone sits on my other side. I realize that I can tell it is Paco because of his scent. I hadn't consciously noticed it, but now that he's sitting next to me, I can smell a faint hint of cologne and sweat and something sweeter like freshly-cut grass wafting from him. "You ever played one of these games before?" he questions.

"No. It's kind of hard when I can't tell what I'm doing," I say.

That makes him laugh. Then suddenly, his arms come around me, and I'm trapped against his hard, wiry chest. "Nah, that just means you need some help. Let me be your—"

"Please don't say 'let me be your eyes.' It's such an overused line," I chuckle.

"Well, I was going to say let me be your Seeing Eye dog, but, I mean—"

Okay, that pushes me to the brink of snorting, I'm laughing so hard. When I can speak again, I manage, "Now I can honestly say I've never heard _that_ one before."

"So what do you say? Want to let me be your Seeing Eye dog?"

I'm still grinning stupidly at his charm when I answer, "Why not?" So he places my fingers over the joystick and buttons then covers them with his own. They start the game, and his fingers start moving rapidly. He's guiding my fingers gently at first until I find a kind of pattern and can anticipate his next move—even though I have no idea what I'm making the character do. After a while, it begins to feel as though Paco and I are all alone despite Julianna and Raul's loud cries. Somehow, the corresponding movement of our hands becomes extremely intimate, and I wonder if he feels it, too, or if it's just my imagination. I really hope that he doesn't feel the drumming of my heart against his chest. _Oh God._ His chest is against my _back_!I'm suddenly uncomfortably conscious of this fact and the fact that I'm nearly sitting in his lap. My self-consciousness begins to affect my concentration, and we being to fall behind in the game.

A moment later, Raul shouts, "Yes! I win!" The commotion he creates makes me wish I could see his victory dance.

Embarrassed, I whisper to Paco, "Sorry. You probably would've won if I hadn't gotten in your way."

"Nah, _mi_ _flora_, I may be a bigger gamer than Raul, but he's always kicked my ass at this one," Paco replies softly. The flutter of his breath against my neck sends a tingle all the way down to my toes, making me fidget. I'm relieved when he stands up, releasing me from his arms, but then there's that stupid part that wishes he would stay.

"Dinner!" announces Mr. Fuentes's baritone voice.

Julianna snatches my hand in hers to lead me after the boys and mutters into my ear, "You two were adorable."

I blush outrageously, but we're at the table before I can offer a protest.

O.o.O

"_Gracias para la comida, Señor Fuentes,"_ I say, setting my fork down on my plate. "It was delicious. I've never eaten traditional Mexican food."

"Well, you're welcome to come eat more anytime," says Mrs. Fuentes. A chorus of agreement drowns out my attempt at polite hesitation at accepting her hospitality. All of their warm voices make me feel really wanted for the first time in forever. Of course, my parents always make me feel that way, but this is the first I've felt it outside of my home.

As the Fuentes children clear away the dishes, Mr. Fuentes asks his wife, "So are you going to drop by to see Shelley tonight, Brit?"

Mrs. Fuentes clears her throat. "Well, she said they were having game night, so I thought I'd let her go on her own tonight. I think it'll be good for her. Have you got any siblings, Violet?"

"No. It's just me," I reply feebly. Whenever people ask me that I always wonder if the reason my parents didn't have any more kids is because I'm blind and just became too much work to handle along with another child.

"You can have my brothers, Violet," Fiona barks. Her tone is always so aggressive, but I've gotten used to it. I figure it's just because she grew up being the middle child between two boys. The fourth Fuentes child, Maribel, is the complete opposite of her siblings. They're loud and rough, but she's barely uttered a word all night.

"Feelin' the love, Fiona," Paco teases. Hearing his voice brings a little smile to my face, and I feel Julianna nudge me with her elbow.

O.o.O

"Thanks for dinner!" Julianna calls as we walk to her car. The Fuentes family continues to send goodbyes after us until we've both shut our car doors. Letting out a satisfied breath, Julianna asks, "So what did you think?"

"Of what?" I say.

"Of the Fuentes family. Were they overwhelming? Because I know I was a little surprised when I first met them."

"No, I thought they were great. Pretty polar opposite of my family, but it's a good different."

Julianna grunts in agreement and starts the car. "Okay, what's your address?"

_**¿Quieres más? **_**(For those of you who don't know much Spanish: Do you want more?) Well, too bad because you have to wait! Ha-ha just teasing. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible! :) Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Told you it'd be up soon! :D The lovey stuff isn't here yet, but it'll come. Promise! Also, a giant thanks to guest Fae for reviewing the last chapter! :) I'm glad that the story makes you crazy in a good way, ha-ha! ;) **

**Chapter 4**

_**Paco**_

This week has flown by. Every day, _la flora_ and Julianna and I have hung out together. I've been trying not to scare Violet off with my aggressiveness—I tend to get inadvertently friendly around girls that I really like. But it's so hard not to touch or hug her. Those innocent, blue eyes are irresistible, and she has got bronze waves that swing from her ponytail, making me want to take it down and mess it up.

But instead of moving on her—which I can tell would be way too soon for her—I'm channeling my sex-crazed hormones into energy for basketball.

Tonight is the game we've been training up for. Our arch nemesis, Wenwin Academy— nicknamed Lily-white Academy after their nearly all-white population—is our opponent tonight. I'm totally psyched, so my game is amped up to the max at practice. Coach Greene is grinning proudly at me as I jog over to wipe my brow with a towel and gulp down Gatorade. "You're really on it today, Fuentes. I'm liking it," he praises, slapping my shoulder. I nod as thanks and head back onto the court. "Bring that talent to the game tonight, got it?" Coach yells after me. I wave briefly before I'm pulled back into the drills we're running.

David Thomas, surprisingly the only black guy on our team, passes the ball to me, and I make my way down the court, sidestep Michael, and pass it back to David. He fakes a left then swirls around Roberto to dribble down and take the shot at half court. Roberto tries blocking him, but the _Méxicano _has nothing on the tallest guy on our team. The ball _whooshes_ through the hoop

I trot toward them and high-five David just as Coach blows the whistle to end practice. Roberto grumbles, "Man, it's not fair. I'm short. I can't even jump. What the hell am I doing on the basketball team?"

I smirk as I ruffle his already-messy hair. "Because you can still make net from across the court," I say.

Roberto is the little _hermano_ of the team. He's a great player, but he gets a lot of heat for being so small. He always proves them wrong, though, when he springs that ball from one end of the court to the other.

A rough, sharp voice calls our attentions. "Fuentes! Thomas! Santiago! Get off my court and hit the showers before rumors start to spread about your threesome!"

All three of us roll our eyes. "He's even more vulgar than us," David chuckles under his breath. Snickering softly, we walk off the court and into the locker-room.

O.o.O

I hate playing on Lily-white Academy's court. Something about the place smells pretentious. Our gym isn't a pigsty, but compared to Lily-white's it could use a little polish…and some new bleachers. Even their locker-rooms are all shiny and neat. It creeps me out. I mean, if you can't find at least _one_ lost, stinky sock or jersey hiding in there then it shouldn't be deigned a boys' locker-room.

Although I'm determined not to let the arrogant atmosphere get to me, it's affecting the others. Even David isn't playing like usual. We're eight points behind, and the game is almost over. Coach calls a timeout and as we're jogging toward him, I ask David, "Hey, _hermano_, what's going on? You're not in the zone tonight."

He eyes me out of the corner of his eye then shakes his head as if to clear it. "Nothing, man," he mumbles. I frown but don't press anymore because we reach Coach, and his face is turning a shade of purple.

I tune out most of what he says because it's just pointless fuming. While I'm pretending to pay attention, my gaze wanders to the bleachers behind Coach. I see a ton of unfamiliar faces with a fair amount of familiar ones interspersed. My eye lands on _Papá _and _Mamá_ with my siblings sitting around them. Next to Fiona there's Julianna and—to my pleasant surprise—_mi flora_. Oh boy, I'm calling her mine, now. Great. Julianna grabs hold of Violet's hand, and they both wave at me. Momentarily becoming a dumbass, I wave back.

Then the shouting starts. "Hey! Fuentes!" Coach rages. "If you're going to pay more attention to the stands than the game then maybe I should just put you on the bench where you'll be nice and close to the bleachers for the rest of the game, sound nice?"

If it were anybody else in any other situation, I'd have snapped a retort, but Coach isn't to be messed with when he's turning purple. So instead I say, "Sorry, Coach." He almost looks like he's going to say something else, but he finishes up ordering everyone around and sends us back onto the court.

Everyone puts forth their best effort, bringing us up six points and keeping Lily-white from scoring anymore, but in the end we still lose by two. I'm only a little depressed because it's really damn hard to be sad whenever I see Violet's face. She's waiting with Julianna outside the locker-room after the gym's almost empty. Michael, Roberto, David, and I are the last ones from our team to leave. Julianna struts up to us, and I notice that she never looks at David. "Hey, boys. Looking good out there. I mean, you lost, but still. Sweaty guys in shorts? Hot," she gushes.

Roberto grins stupidly and puffs out his chest, making me laugh. I step in before the two biggest flirts in my group of friends start going at it. "Thanks, Julianna. You didn't have to come, you know."

"Oh, I know. But Violet really wanted to."

I look past her at _mi flora_. She's just hovering close by, unsure of where to stand. Now that I'm up close, I realize that she's got paint on her cheek. It's my jersey number: three. I'm beaming without even realizing it as I slip over to her. "Hey," I say lamely. What can I say? I'm flattered speechless.

"Hi," is her shy reply. Still, even after a week of spending time together she acts bashful around me.

I touch her cheek lightly where my number is painted, but she flinches away. "Oh, sorry." Somehow I forget that she can't see the things I'm doing.

"It's okay. I shouldn't be so jumpy. Um, you were really great out there. I mean, I couldn't see you, but Julianna told me everything that happened."

"Thanks." I want so badly to brush away the locks of hair that have fallen loose from her ponytail, but I promised myself not to move too fast. That had been part of the problem between Julianna and me.

We stand there for a long time, silent. I can't think of anything to say, but I am just content to watch her anyway. The sound of raised voices draws my attention away. "What's happening?" Violet asks, sounding alarmed.

I peer over my shoulder to see that Julianna and the others have moved further away from us and are now arguing heatedly with players from the other team. "Don't worry about it. I'll go straighten it out. Stay here." The last thing I want is for her to get picked on by these jerks.

When I approach, Roberto calls out, "Paco! _Hermano_, these guys got _mierda _flyin' out the wrong hole. Why don't you come help us shut their mouths for them?"

"Maybe you should learn English, Mexican," spits a guy who looks like someone stuck a hook in his nose and pulled until it stretched into what can only be described as a beak.

"Oh, ouch, yeah I'm so hurt by my heritage. Please, one _Méxicano _is enough for ten of you," Roberto retorts.

Beaknose sneers, making his nose even uglier if possible, and I see his gaze focus like a hawk's on something behind me. It takes me a split second to realize that he's about to sink that low.

"What about your pretty, little princess? She looks so helpless and pure, makes me want to fuck that hard. Think she could take ten of us?" Those last words spout from his mouth, and I'm suddenly lunging at him, fists flying.

I really should be grateful that Michael and David hold me back, but in that moment, they're my enemies, too. After struggling in their arms for a while, I cry out and yank as hard as I can. My arm wrenches free of David's grip and I shove Michael to the ground. Turning back to Beaknose, David's there again, and I probably would have hit him too if Coach hadn't appeared. _"Fuentes!"_ he screams as he tackles me. He pins me on my stomach, head crushed by one hand and arm bound behind me by the other. I hear him shouting at the other team to leave. Finally, he lets me go. I stand up, huffing and red in the face. "Dumbass! What were you thinking? Oh, that's right, _you weren't_!"

"Coach, he—" He doesn't let me finish.

"You think I care, Fuentes? You better be grateful I stopped you when I did. You know the team has a no-fighting policy. Now go home, calm down, and don't _ever_ do anything stupid like that again." I stand there, jaw working hard, trying not to pound into him.

"Paco?" whispers a soft voice. _Mi flora_ is behind me, Julianna beside her. "Are—Are you okay?"

Seeing her settles the storm threatening to explode from me. "_Sí, Flora._ I'm fine." I look at Julianna, but she's staring off to the side with a sort of sad expression. Following her gaze, I see David helping Michael up off the ground. My head tells me I should apologize, but I'm just not in an apologetic mood.

Hooking my arms around the girls, I sigh, "Let's just go." Julianna's eyes continue to watch David until we're out of the gym.

We're traipsing through the parking lot when Julianna sniffles, and I frown, but she's not crying. Or if she is, she's hiding it really well. "Um, Vi?" she says.

"Yeah?" Violet replies.

"Could you maybe ride home with Paco? I, uh, have some errands to run."

_Mi flora _bites her winter-reddened lip. "Well, I guess I don't mind, but Paco—"

"I'm cool with that," I say quickly.

"Thanks," Julianna blurts just as she breaks away from us to walk toward her own car.

I frown, wondering if I really heard a waver in her voice. Violet voices my thoughts. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know," I answer. I'm still walking with my arm around her shoulders, and I love this feeling. I wish we didn't have to separate to get into my car. Or, you know, ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter doesn't have very much fun going on, but the next ones will be drama-filled; trust me. ;) Hope you enjoy! :) Thanks to all who have read and reviewed!**

**Chapter 5**

_**Violet**_

The car is rumbling along as we sit in silence. I wish Paco would turn on the radio. He's driven me home before, but I suddenly don't know what to say. I guess I just didn't think he was the brawling type. "So," I begin awkwardly, "what happened back there? What did he say to you that made you so angry?"

The air in the car becomes drastically heavier with hostility. To be honest it kind of scares me. I'm glad when he finally grinds out from behind clenched teeth, "Nothing."

"Come on, Paco, you don't start whaling on a guy over nothing." He stays quiet, and I can imagine his jaw working—well, I can imagine my version of him doing it. "At least tell me what it was about. Was it—?"

"You, okay!?" he shouts, making me jump. He's never raised his voice at me before. "It was about you," he repeats, much softer this time. I don't say anything. I'm wondering why he got so mad over something about me. A few minutes later, I hear the engine cut off, and I reach for the door handle. Paco's grasp on my wrist halts me. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"You were upset. It's okay; I understand."

"No, I—look, I wasn't mad at you. It's just, remembering what that guy said—" he choked off angrily. He took a deep breath to control himself. "Let me apologize. Do you really need to be home soon?"

I contemplate where he's going with this. "Not really," I reply slowly.

"Okay. Then how about you let me buy you dinner? Everyone is going to mourn our loss by stuffing their faces with pizza at Pizza Buffet. Will you let me treat you to a slice?" Paco's voice rings sincere and I really could eat a slice or two.

"Alright."

I wonder if he's smiling. My image of him definitely is.

O.o.O

The aroma of grease, cheese, and sausage wafts over me as we step into Pizza Buffet, and with it come loud music and boisterous voices. "It doesn't sound like they're mourning to me!" I yell to Paco over the noise.

"It's always like this. We start off sad and defeated, but the party amps up after the first ten minutes or so once the music starts and people get up to dance," he replies as he grabs my hand and pulls me through a crowd of people dancing to the song that's blaring from the speakers. Elbows jab my ribs lightly and feet stomp my toes, an apology soon to follow. It's always unnerving not really knowing what's going on around me, but with Paco's fingers around mine, it's not so bad.

Finally, we fight our way out of the group. Paco guides me onto a barstool. "Hey, Ricky!" Paco calls.

A moment later, a new, deep voice answers, "How's it going, Paco?"

"Not bad. Listen. Can I get a small pizza to share with _mi flora_ here?"

"No problem. Hey, where's David? He always comes to these things, but I haven't seen him once."

"Sorry, I don't know."

"Alright. What do you guys want on your pizza?"

"Is pepperoni okay with you?" Paco directs the question at me.

I nod silently.

"Hey, you're the new girl in town, aren't you? The one that chewed out Michael," Ricky realizes. I blush, embarrassed that my little outburst has become so widely-known. "Tell you what. Since you're new in town, I'll throw in a free scoop of Frankie's legendary chocolate éclair."

Paco moans beside me. "Oh, you've got to try it, Violet. Frankie makes the best desserts in town, and his éclair really is famous. It's been featured in newspapers and on cooking shows."

I smile appreciatively at where I hope Ricky is standing. "Thanks. I'd love to try it."

Once Ricky is gone, Paco leans close to my ear and asks, "So, feel like a dance?"

I blink, surprised, but don't miss a beat. My eyesight—or lack thereof—is not going to keep me from having fun. Plus, I can't miss a chance to show Paco that I'm just like any other girl; I'm not handicapped. So my answer is a strong, "Definitely."

He swings me out onto the dance floor and twirls me around. We're moving to the beat of Owl City and Carly Rae Jepsen's "Good Time," and I get lost in the vibrations that crawl from the floorboards up into my body. It just feels so _good_.

But then I'm violently yanked back to reality when a roaming hand squeezes my backside. Reflexively, I squeal and whirl around in a one-eighty. As I back up, my back bumps into a wiry frame and Paco's scent envelopes me. "Hey!" he shouts, gripping my shoulders protectively.

"Sorry, man, my bad," says a rather stoned-sounding individual. I press my arm against Paco's chest when he starts advancing on the other guy.

"It's okay. No harm done, Paco," I reason. But I can still feel the tension in his posture. "Come on," I sigh. "Let's go see if Ricky has our pizza yet."

After a minute, he complies, and we struggle through the throng to the counter. I smell fresh pizza, right out of the oven, as we approach.

"My compliments to the chef," I say around a bite of pizza.

A short chuckle is the response. "Frankie will want to hug you just because you called him a chef," Ricky says.

Not wanting to spit crumbs, I just smile and sip my water.

Paco doesn't really talk to me much as we eat; he gets pulled into other conversations with students from Fairfield. But I don't mind. I get to listen to him. He's a great storyteller, making silly voices and probably gestures and faces to match. And everybody, _everybody_ likes him. Not only is he friends with the popular, athletic clique, but kids from the geekier side of the spectrum come talk to him. One girl even started discussing politics with him. Of course, every now and then, when he'd get a break from other people, he'd turn his attention on me. But somehow, I like listening to his conversations better. I feel like I learn more about him that way.

Soon, Fairfield students begin trickling out the door, and the noise level drops to a low murmur. Ricky brings over the chocolate éclair that he promised, and Paco hands me a spoon. "Let's share it," I offer.

"Aweady ahead ov oo." His voice is muffled from the chocolate éclair in his mouth. I giggle and blindly hunt down a good spoonful. Like I said before, with my sense of sight gone, my other senses are enhanced, so the taste of Frankie's chocolate éclair explodes in my mouth like a bomb from heaven. Makes no sense, I know, but that's what it seems like.

"Mmmmm… _Muy, muy, muy bien_," I sigh, satisfied.

Paco laughs softly.

O.o.O

Paco kills the engine when we're sitting in my driveway. I smile appreciatively at him and, in a total spur-of-the-moment euphoria, suggest, "Why don't you come in?"

"Really?"

Stunned at my own offer, it takes me a minute to choke, "Yeah."

Paco considers for a minute then says, "Alright. Yeah, I guess it's kind of weird that I haven't met your parents yet even though we've been hanging out so much."

"Right," is all I can muster before popping open my door and sliding out. Straightening my top, I feel my way around the front of the car and hope that I'm stepping onto the sidewalk when Paco's fingers graze mine—an invitation. Feeling very small and helpless and frustrated at being helpless, I loop my fingers around his and let him guide me to my front door.

Releasing his hand as soon as I reach for the door handle, I push it open and rush in. "I'm home!" I call. "And I brought Paco in to meet you guys." As I drop my bag in the hall closet, I listen for sounds of movement in the house. Finding none, I call out my parents' names. When I get no response, I walk to the door leading to the garage. Opening it, I sense the emptiness in front of me before I even step out to feel around for the cars. "I guess they're gone." I know Paco's standing in the doorway behind me—I heard him follow.

"Well, no sense in standing out in the cold garage. Come back inside," he says.

I close the door behind me and freeze. I have no idea what to do. I rarely have visitors at my house, let alone male ones. "Um, do you want something to drink? Or eat?"

He laughs, "Considering I just ate a butt load of pizza and chocolate éclair, I think I'm good."

A nervous giggle escapes my lips. "Right." Pause. "Well, how about we go up to my room?" Guys should really come with manuals telling you specifically what to and not to do with them alone at your house.

"Okay," is the response. Feeling really awkward for no good reason, I lead the way upstairs, down the hall, and into my bedroom. "Wow," he says. I turn my back to him as I stride to my bureau and untie my hair to brush it through.

"What?" I ask, not facing him.

"Your room is just so different from Julianna's."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, she has posters of half-naked guys plastered to every wall," he chuckled. "She's kind of like a guy but with giant _chichis_." I barked a short laugh. "Ah, finally. You've been wound up ever since we got here. You nervous about your _padres_ meeting me?"

"Honestly? I'm terrified. I've never really brought home a guy—even as a friend. Most teenage guys tend to shy away from the whole blind thing. They don't mind being friends, but nothing more."

I hear my bed creak behind me as he settles on it. "Aw, come on. You can't tell me you've never met _one_ guy who was okay with you being blind."

My hand pauses as it slides the brush through my tresses. "Well, there was one guy. He was blind, too. It was in middle school, and we met through the special needs program there. He was really nice and funny, but I moved away before we got a chance to get serious. Since then nobody has approached me. Well, except there was one certain _chica_…" Paco's wolf whistle sings through the room and the bed springs squeak as if he was leaning forward. Giggling silently, I swivel to face him.

"Please, do tell," he requests, a cocky grin in his voice.

"I'm just kidding, _tonto_."

"Now see, you can't go getting a _chico's_ hopes up then just smack 'em down like that!"

I smile and walk to sit beside him on my bed. "So what about you? Lots of ex-girlfriends in your past, I bet."

He is quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he admits, "Not too many."

"Really?"

"Nah. I was just never the type to get around. I had girlfriends, but they usually lasted for a while, and I'm actually pretty picky."

"Huh. Who would've thought that Paco, big man Paco with his raw physical and mental talent would be the serious relationship type?" I tease. But inside I can't help feeling relieved that he is like that. I don't think I can deal with being toyed with—like anything will happen between us anyway. He is light-years out of my league.

"Hey, I'm not that shallow," he protests, poking my in the ribs. I squeak in surprise, making him chuckle quietly.

"Well, if your history is so limited then how many girlfriends have you had?"

"Let's see… Four, if you count Julianna."

"Julianna?" I blink in shock. That is unexpected.

"Yeah, we dated when school started this year but only for a few weeks. We found out quick that we didn't fit together very well—at least in that way. So we just decided to be friends."

"Oh. Well, it's great that you guys don't feel awkward or anything."

He is silent for a moment. "You know you still have my jersey number on your face?"

"Oh!" My hand jumps to my face. I blush slightly as I run a finger over the paint. Then I fly toward my bathroom and turn the sink on.

"I didn't mean you had to take it off," Paco says as he comes to stand in the doorway. I am annoyingly conscious of his presence as I rub my cheek with a wet towel. After a moment, a soft laugh sounds very close to me. "You're not getting all of it. Let me." Before I can even react, he takes the washrag from my hand and gently strokes it along my skin. I'm silent because I can't think of anything to say; my tongue is tied in one of those impossible knots you tie your shoelaces in as a kid because you just can't learn the proper way. "So have you met any guys here that you like?"

The question kind of catches me off guard—mostly because the answer is yes: him. I try avoiding it. "Uh, I've been here for all of two weeks and been in school for only one."

But he's not so easily misdirected. "That's not an answer."

I gulp, hoping he can't hear the pounding in my chest. "Well…yes."

"Who?" His tone is forcedly casual; I wonder what he's holding back.

I'm completely wrapped up in debating whether or not to tell him how I feel when a very tight voice asks in an accusatory voice, "Who are you?"


	6. Chapter 6

** How are you guys doing? You good? I hope you're good. :) I'm good. Just fighting to get through these last couple months of school. Bleh. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! If you read, then please review! They keep me writing. ;)**

**Chapter 6**

_**Paco**_

That's the sound you love to hear when you're having an intimate moment with a potential date: the sound of what can only be the voice of the girl's father. "Who are you?" he repeats as I swivel around on my heel.

I fumble for words. "Uh, hello, sir. My name is Paco." I hold out my hand for him to shake then realize I'm still holding the washcloth in my hand. I quickly throw it on the bathroom counter. But the look on Mr. Morgan's face doesn't seem eager to shake my hand.

"Dad, this is my friend Paco. I told you and Mom about him," Violet says, stepping out of the bathroom.

Mr. Morgan's eyes narrow "Yes…the Mexican boy."

"Dad!" She moves around me, trying to be a shield.

"Violet." Mr. Morgan is not in a flexible mood.

But _mi flora _shows no sign of backing down. "Dad, don't get upset. Paco drove me home, and I invited him inside to meet you and Mom, but you weren't here so we came upstairs to wait for you."

"Violet, you know you're not supposed to have boys in the house alone."

"Dad, I just wanted him to meet you guys."

"That's no excuse." Mr. Morgan's pale blue eyes lock on my face. "I think it's time you leave."

"Dad—"

"We'll finish this discussion later."

I nod respectfully to Mr. Morgan and, staying conscious of the fact that her father is watching me, squeeze her shoulder and say, "See you later, Violet." It doesn't take long to reach the front door, but before I step out, I turn to face Mr. Morgan. "Sir, I don't mean any disrespect, but may I say something?" His silence is cold but allowing so I continue, "I just want you to know that I would never hurt Violet. She has become a very good friend to me. A great one. I hope you will give me a chance to prove to you that I am a good and responsible friend to her as well."

The atmosphere seems to warm ever so slightly, though it might be my imagination. Having said my piece, I step out into the night, a chilly winter wind gusting around me. As I walk to my car, I hope to God I didn't just screw up everything with Violet. I meant what I said to Mr. Morgan.

O.o.O

Two blocks from my house, I spot my old hang out: the old playground and basketball court. The worn pavement and rusting basketball pole are comfortingly familiar as I park my car and retrieve my spare ball from the trunk. It's below freezing, but my mind is too mixed up to care much at this point.

My breath freezes in the still air as I dodge an imaginary opponent to flit to the side and slam-dunk the ball.

When I get caught up in the game, things go on around me without me noticing—time for example. By the time my phone vibrating in my pocket snaps me out of my zone it's already past eleven o'clock. I realize that I've already missed three texts from my sister, Fiona, each one with an increasingly annoyed tone. The last and fourth one that had pulled me back into reality says that she is going out to look for me because _Papá_ is blowing a gasket. Sighing resignedly, I put my phone back in my pocket and continue shooting hoops. She'll find me quickly. Fiona used to come here often, too; mostly because she thought the friends I hung out with were hot.

As I predict, the sassy shadow of my flirtatious and aggressive sister comes into view after only about five minutes, meaning this is the first place she's checked, seeing as she is on foot.

"_Paco! Papá _is going tokill you, and I might help him because his yelling about you is pissing me off. Do you never look at your phone?" Fiona snaps as soon as she hits the pavement.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't feel my phone go off," I lie, not taking my attention from the goal.

"Whatever. Will you stop playing around with balls," she intends the innuendo in those words, "and come home so _Papá_ can chew you out?"

"Haven't got a choice, have I?" I sigh, catching the rebound. I turn to walk back to my car. Fiona follows. "You want a ride back?"

"Uh, yeah. You think I want to freeze out here?"

"I don't know. You've probably got a guy stashed close by you can go warm up with." I regret saying it as it leaves my lips. Everyone knows Fiona has an unfortunate past when it comes to guys, but now she's trying to move forward from that. I just go uncovering all the pain she's had to deal with because I'm feeling a little moody. Way to go, big brother. When I look at her, her long hair is shadowing her face so I can't see her expression, but she's stonily quiet. I stop walking and fold my arms around her. Fiona's not small; she's tall and curvy, but right now, in my embrace, my sister feels incredibly tiny and vulnerable. It's almost scary to see her like this when she's usually so fired up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"I don't care. I have to get used to it, anyway." She pulls away from me and gives me a small smile before stepping toward the car.

But a snickering voice stops her in her tracks. "Wasn't that just beautiful?"

I whip around to see Beakface and some of his buddies pulling up in a silver Jaguar. As the car comes to a halt, they all pile out. How the hell they all fit in that tiny contraption is a mystery to me.

I know Fiona's fiery façade is back in place because I hear her hiss, "Well, who are these dickheads? Oh, wait. Doesn't look they have dicks. Maybe we should just call them assholes since it looks like that's all they use." _Dios mio_, sometimes I am immensely grateful Fiona's on my side.

Beakface scowls at her remark. "Aren't you the whore who can't keep her legs closed?"

"That all you got? Your ammunition's pretty weak, _gringo_."

"I'm not here for you, lecherous wench. We wanted to extend an invitation to you, Fuentes. Be at the Langton Park court at four tomorrow. Bring your team. We can finish what we started earlier."

"And if I don't?" I ask, my body tensed and ready to spring into action because who knows what these guys might do.

"Then we might just have a little fun with one of your girls. This one seems pretty amusing." Beakface makes a stupid move by trying to stroke Fiona's face as if she's some delicate flower; when her fist collides with his jaw, I think he gets the message. He falls on his butt then glares up at us, holding his cheek where she punched him. "You'll pay for that, bitch." Then he gets up, shoving away his friends' offered hands, and stalks back to his Jag. Revving the engine, he calls, "Show up, Fuentes, or your girls might find themselves in a spot of trouble."

I flick him off before he and his friends drive away in his itty bitty sports car.

O.o.O

Arriving home is almost like facing Beakface again. There's yelling and cussing; the major difference this time is that Fiona doesn't participate in this argument. _Papá_ sends my little brother and sisters upstairs while he barks at me about my irresponsibility. "You know you're supposed to call or text one of us if you're going to be out late, Paco," _Papá _scolds. He's calmer now than he'd been when I'd opened the door. He's not slipping into Spanish so much anymore. "For all I knew you were out getting high or mugged or getting some _chica_ pregnant—"

"_Papá! _God, no! I'm not that stupid."

"I know you're not. Hell, you're smarter than I am, but that doesn't mean you can't do stupid things. Your _Tío _Luis is sharp, but he's made some dumb choices in his time."

"Look, I just got lost in my practice, okay?"

_Mi_ _papá _pauses, his dark eyes narrowing at me. "Where were you before you were shooting hoops?"

"After the game I went to Pizza Buffet with Violet then drove her home."

"You were with Violet? Was Julianna there?"

"No."

"It was just the two of you?"

"Yes." I'm fighting to keep the exasperation out of my tone.

_Papá _is quiet for a long time, his gaze never leaving my face. Finally, he growls, "I swear to God, Paco, if you get that poor girl into trouble—"

I throw my hands up incredulously. "_Papá_ would you relax? It's not like that! Why do you think that everything with me has to be about girls and booze and sex?"

_Papá _rubs his hands over his face, suddenly looking very tired. _"Lo siento, hijo,"_ he mumbles. "I keep worrying about your brother and sister. I need to make sure that you're on the right path. I see them slipping off into dangerous territories. You're a role model to them, and I need to know you're a positive influence."

"Me a role model for Fiona and Raul? They don't look up to anyone," I joke half-heartedly. But I know what he means. Maribel is still young and innocent, but the middle siblings of the four of us tend to stray into "dangerous territories," probably more often than _Papá _knows.

He gives me a warm half grin before rising from his chair—we are in the living room—and ascending the stairs. As he goes, he turns out all the lights except the living room one where I am still sitting, thinking.

Five minutes or so pass then I feel my phone vibrating again. It's a text from David.

Talk to Julianna. I think she needs you.

** Thank you for reading and, if you do read it, reviewing! It's greatly appreciated. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

_**¿Qué pasa, mis amigos? **_**I hope you like this story so far…I know it's no match for Simone's writing.**

**Also, **_**lo siento **_**for taking so long to update. With school ending, I weirdly have less time to do things when I'm at home than when I'm at school, so I haven't been writing a ton… Anyway, please enjoy!**

**Chapter 7**

_**Violet**_

Once Paco left, Dad gave me a good tongue lashing about "irresponsible decisions" and the "impulsiveness of young men." Then Mom arrived home to deliver the same message once Dad explained what had happened. Being the docile little daughter I am, I sat there and agreed with everything they said and promised to learn from my mistakes and be more responsible in the future. The recorded response.

Finally, my ears bleeding from the extensive lecture, I slump into my room. Burying my face into my pillow, I breathe the comforting, familiar scent. I suddenly feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Tapping the button on my alarm clock on my bedside table, I listen as it chimes in a mechanical voice, "Friday, January eleventh. Ten forty-three p.m."

My parents had reprimanded me for an _hour_.

I sigh and rest my head on my pillow for a moment, planning to get ready for bed in a few minutes. But my phone vibrates on my side table before I even get up to change into pajamas. Nearly knocking my phone the ground when I reach to grab it, I answer, "Hello?"

Over the line travels a helpless, little squeaky sound and the person clears her throat. Julianna croaks, "Hey, Vi."

"What's wrong, Julianna?" I ask, sitting up in alarm, totally awake now.

"Um…do you-do you think you could just s-s-stay on the phone with me for a l-little while?" she stammers pitifully.

My brow furrows, but I don't pry. "Sure. Anything you need, Julianna."

For several minutes I listen to her sniffles and hitched breaths until I just can't take it. "Look, do you want to come over? I'm sure I can convince—"

"Oh, no, Vi. Thanks. But—I don't want to give you any trouble." Julianna's voice breaks on the last word, making my heart ache in sympathy.

"Well, do you want to talk about it? Or I could just talk to you, distract you. My parents just gave me plenty to complain about."

I hear a tiny, breathless chuckle escape her lips. "Well, I guess I should tell you what this is all about. It'd be totally rude to just call you all weepy and not give you the deets."

My lips twitch with amusement. At least she is attempting at joking like her usual self. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Julianna."

She sniffs loudly. "I know. I want to." She pauses, and I wait patiently for her to catch her breath and maybe gather some courage. "I'm pregnant."

I imagine my jaw hitting the floor. "W-What? Really?"

"Yeah," she says softly. She sounds relieved to tell somebody.

"Oh my God, Julianna—are you going to be okay? I mean, I'm here if you need _anything_. Just ask."

"Thanks, Violet. That means a lot. I'm surprised you're not dogging me to know who the father is."

"I figure if you want me to know you'll tell me."

"Since he already knows, I guess it is okay to tell you. It's David."

That doesn't shock me quite so much. I have sensed something between them ever since I'd seen them together. "What did he say when you told him?"

Julianna hesitates before replying, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" I'm incredulous.

"Yeah…I kind of ran out right after I told him. I just panicked."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Do you think I'd be talking to you right now if I knew?"

"Right. Sorry," I say sheepishly.

We are both quiet for a while. Julianna doesn't seem to want to say much, but she doesn't want to hang up either. Finally, she whispers, "I'm scared."

"Don't worry, Julianna. You know I'm here for anything you need, and you've got Paco, too. And I'm sure David will support you as much as he can. You're going to get through this." A pathetic sniffle is the only reply, and I feel my heart crack a bit at the uncertainty in that sniffle. I sigh, unsure of what to say next.

"Hey, Vi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. You helped me a lot. I should go now. Paco has been calling me nonstop for the last ten minutes. I'll see you later. Really, thank you, Vi. It means a lot that you're here to support me."

"Of course. Bye, Julianna."

"Bye."

_Click._

I take my phone from my ear and just hold it tightly for a long time before slowly rising and getting ready for bed.

O.o.O

The smell of eggs, bacon, and biscuits saturates the air as I step closer and closer to the kitchen. "Good morning, Violet," says Dad. "I'll have a plate ready for you in a minute."

I grunt a thanks before propping myself on a barstool. Suddenly, the fact that I can't make my own plate pisses me off. The desire to see floats into my mind where it has long been absent. I thought I had made peace with my blindness a long time ago, but now these feelings are creeping up on me once more—why? Instead of voicing my problem, I stuff it down so that I can analyze it later when my suffocating parents are not around.

"Your mother and I are going to a museum to have lunch today if you want to join us," Dad suggests.

My tone is snarkier than I mean for it to be when I reply, "A museum implies exhibits which you require sight to admire. So no thanks." I hear him pause at the snap in my voice, but Mom enters, creating a distraction.

"Oh, Violet, you're awake. Did Dad invite to come with us today?" she asks. I hear her moving around the kitchen, grabbing a coat and her purse.

"Yeah, but I don't think I'll go. Thanks, though," I say, slightly guilty for my shortness with Dad.

"Alright. Well, if you're staying home alone be sure to keep your phone around you and to use the intercom if someone rings the doorbell."

It's a struggle to keep the exasperation from slipping into my words. "I know."

"Okay. I'm going out for a bit, but I'll be back before we leave for the museum." She kisses my forehead. "Bye!"

"Bye."

"Have fun, honey," says Dad.

The door to the garage slams and the sound of a car engine roaring to life meets my ears. Then she's gone. For a long time, Dad and I don't say anything. He just hands me my plate and starts cleaning up his mess. When I'm finished and about to get up, he says, "So you don't have any plans? Not with that Paco fellow?"

I freeze, one foot on the cold kitchen tile, the other still braced on the barstool. "Not at the moment," I answer carefully. "Something might come up later, but I'll call you guys if it does."

"Mm," is all he offers in response. The soapy dish water sloshes, his steady hands working diligently.

I consider leaving it at that, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Hm? Oh, no."

I can tell he's lying. "Dad."

He sighs, and I hear a clanking sound as if he's dropped the dish he'd been washing. "I just want you to be careful."

I roll my head back, exhausted with this argument. "Dad, you have nothing to worry about, okay? Paco is just a friend. Besides I'm not stupid enough to get myself in trouble."

"I know, sweetheart. But that doesn't mean you can't get hurt, and I don't want to see that happen." He means it. I know that fathers usually mean things like that, but my dad rarely expresses such personal feelings, and it's so jolting when he does.

Heart in my throat, I choke, "Thanks, Dad." Nose itching with heartfelt tears, I stride upstairs to my room. Anxious to rid my mind of such emotional thoughts, I blast my radio loud and step under the warm spray of the shower. Carrie Underwood's sweet, Southern voice drowns out everything else as I vigorously scrub my skin until it is raw. I let the downpour flood through my hair, rinsing the citrus-scented conditioner from my locks. Tightening my grip on my waterlogged hair, I feel the fluid drip over my skin and wonder what it looks like—what color my hair is. I have been told, of course, that my hair is a shade of brown, bronze as my mother calls it. But the strange desire to see the color for myself bombarded my thoughts. Why do I suddenly want to see again?

A sigh escapes my lips as I close the shower curtain behind me. I go about my usual routine, toweling my hair and combing it through, brushing my teeth and flossing them. I pause at my sink and frown slightly. My hand reaches out to lightly stroke the cold glass of the mirror on the wall. This house had come with the mirror on my bathroom wall; otherwise my parents would never have placed one above my sink.

My finger slide down the glass, and vapor from my shower accumulates on the skin of my fingertip. Pulling my hand away, I feel the water droplet dangling from my finger like a tear.

O.o.O

Warmth from the sunlight gives me comfort where I lie in the grass in our backyard. The trees rustle with the stark, winter wind.

Beside my head, my phone vibrates, and I answer it. "Hello?"

"Hey," says Julianna's voice from the speaker. "I'm outside your house. I was wondering if we could hang out today."

Sitting up quickly in surprise, I fumble to answer. "Y-Yeah! Sure! Just come around back. I'm already out here."

A few moments later I hear her feet swishing in the dry grass as she strides slowly toward me. "So what are you doing?" she asks.

"Just relaxing." I pat the ground beside me. "Join me. It's nice with the sun warming your skin with the cold air around you."

Julianna's clothes shuffle as she settles down. When she is comfortable, she lets go of a heavy sigh that sounds like she's been holding in for a long while. For several minutes, we lie there in companionable silence, listening to the breeze rattling the bare branches of the trees and my next door neighbor's dog as he barks deeply at passing cars.

Finally, Julianna says, "I'm going to need maternity clothes."

I blink. "Yeah, I guess so." My head turns to the side, letting the sun's rays warm my neck. "Want to go shopping for some?"

"God, I'm going to get _fat_."

My body convulses with laughter.

"Hey!" Her tone sounds half offended, but in the next moment she is giggling alongside me. "I really don't know what I'm doing, Vi!" she guffaws. We laugh harder, rolling in the grass and grasping our sides.

Finally, the ripples of chuckles gradually calm until we are left there, panting slightly. "That's okay," I say, "because you've got people around you that are going to help you figure it out."

Julianna's hand brushes my hair fondly. "You really are totally awesome, Vi. Now let's revisit that shopping idea you had before…"

My lips curve quickly in a knowing smile.

O.o.O

"How can you not own a single designer dress?" Julianna gasps, aghast.

I shrug. "I don't know. I never have a need for them. And it's not like my parents are rolling in money."

"Oh, please. Excuses. Well, you're going to need one for the Valentine's Dance in a few weeks."

"Valentine's Dance?"

"Of course. The school has one every year."

"I doubt I'll be going. I mean, who is going to ask _me_?"

"Um, let's see—oh!—Paco. Duh."

"Paco?" I feel my cheeks flushing. "Why would he ask me?"

"Because he obviously likes you."

"Did he tell you that?" I ask disbelievingly.

She scoffs. "No, not directly, but I can see it. Oo! This one would look perfect on you! It'd really bring out your eyes and even compliment you hair color."

Momentarily distracted, I rub my fingers on the cool fabric—silk—and ask, "What color is it?"

She considers for a moment before replying, "Sapphire blue."

I don't know what it looks like, but I can imagine it. My parents always described what each color made them feel like. Yellow was happy and warm like the sun; blue was cool and calm like water. I can't keep a small smile from invading my lips, but then I let go of the dress and say sternly, "I thought we were shopping for maternity clothes."

Julianna clicks her tongue. "I can do that later. We should totally refresh your wardrobe."

"I don't have any money."

"Just a couple shirts. Please? I really need some therapy shopping."

I roll my eyes and allow her to wander deeper into the department store. I stay relatively close by, but when she gets concentrated on shopping, she _really _concentrates. My mind can't keep from drifting. A pair of girls is browsing a few feet away, and their voices float over to me. "…totally psyched to watch them get beaten into the ground," says one girl with a nasally voice.

The other replies, "I know. Those loser Fairfield Mexicans are going to pay."

"Shawn said Fuentes practically pissed himself when they challenged him."

The second girl cackles grossly as my heart slams to a halt. They are talking about Paco.

"Bet if he did he wouldn't be able to afford another pair, ha-ha!" snickers Girl Two.

"Hey." I know the voice instantly, but it's deepened with so much menace that it's nearly unrecognizable. Julianna apparently heard them as well, and now she strides toward them. "Is gossiping really all you lowlifes know how to do?"

"Excuse you, we were having a private conversation," retorts the nasally girl.

"Oh, yeah? Because I think the cashier up front could hear you from where he's sitting with _ear buds_ in his ears," Julianna snaps, attitude in full slap-a-hoe mode.

Girl One makes a disgusted noise before saying, "Well, we'll see who the real lowlifes are at the match."

"What match?" Somehow Julianna manages to make that sound like a threat.

Girl Two sniggers. "Wow. Totally great way to show how dumb you are, slut. The basketball match tonight at the Langton Park court. Shawn and the guys are going to shove your guys' balls up their own asses."

"I wonder what kind of guy would ever want to kiss that dirty mouth of yours. You should really rethink not brushing, sweetheart. And thanks for the info. See you tonight, girlies.  
We'll kick the holy—" I don't feel comfortable repeating the incredibly long insult she says here, "out of you tonight. Count on it."

Then she hooks my arm in hers and drags me out of the store.

"W-Where are we going?" I sputter, stunned.

"To talk to Paco, the world's dumbest dumbass."


End file.
